u/One-Elephant-8146

I transferred to a larger school in a nearby town when I was 13 due to bullying in my smaller school. I settled in pretty quickly…didn’t make a lot of friends but I had a niche and a feeling that I belonged somewhere. I was happy with my place.

I think it was October when Emily moved to our town. Her parents had divorced and her mom had brought them to this town where their uncle lived. We met in band class. I played the drums and she played the flute. She wasn’t very good at it and was shunned by a lot of the other flute players. I knew what it felt like to be shunned, so I went up to her one day and introduced myself. We started hanging out after that. We couldn’t talk often, since we didn’t have any classes other than band, but we would talk some. She liked to draw in her notebook and would draw unicorns a lot. She also had pink streaks in her hair and these gorgeous green eyes with long lashes that I thought were the prettiest things I’d ever seen. I wouldn’t say we were close, but we were friend.

But I soon got sick of Emily. It pains me to write that now, I don’t want to admit it, but it’s true. Emily was desperate for attention. She craved it. She would yell your name and run up to you in the halls. She would cling to your arm when she talked to you like you’d vanish if she let go. And she would get upset if you were talking to someone else. She’d try to get herself involved in any conversation she could. She would often bring conversations back to drama and why we should hate certain girls in our grade. And if you didn’t hate those girls, that clearly meant you hated her.

Pretty soon a lot of people stopped talking to her. Some outright told her that they didn’t like her. I wasn’t that mean, I just stopped reaching out to her and when I talked to her, I just kept my answers brief and curt. She got the message soon enough. She’d still run up to me and talk my ear off if she saw me in the halls, but she didn’t seek me out. Once high school came, she switched band for choir and we just never saw each other anymore. She was always happy to see me whenever we crossed paths, and I was always polite. But it was like you couldn’t escape her if you started talking to her, so if I saw her in the halls, I’d lower my head in the hopes she wouldn’t see me.

I lost track of her after COVID. I’d heard in passing that her family moved across the state from some girls in the bathroom. They were thrilled at the news, as she wasn’t popular in choir either. I was secretly glad, as I didn’t like talking to her and was glad I didn’t have to anymore. And the years went by and I honestly forgot all about her.

But then I saw an old classmate post a picture of her on Snapchat with the comment Happy heavenly birthday and my blood went cold. I texted the classmate and asked what the heck her comment meant. This classmate had known Emily’s family fairly well…it turned out that Emily’s mom was an alcoholic and addicted to drugs, and over COVID, she introduced Emily to drugs as well. Emily would smoke with her mom because it was the only real bonding time she could have with her. This just continued after Emily’s family moved away, and one night, Emily was driving when she was high, crossed the center line, and hit an SUV head-on. Emily wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and was killed instantly. The other guy lived but with severe injuries. Emily’s obituary page online only has comments from her relatives, and they are all arguing over who was to blame for her death—her mom for getting her hooked on drugs, Dad for not being in the picture, grandma for letting this happen, it’s a real soap opera. Emily was 17.

Seventeen freaking years old. She died four years ago and I didn’t know about it until now.

I feel terrible. Emily and I weren’t close and I wasn’t outright cruel to her, but I feel so much shame and regret for what I did in eighth and ninth grade. Emily was dealing with so much and I can understand now why she was acting the way she was. She didn’t want to lose us because we were all we had. She had no positive influence in her life and she died because of it. I could have been more sympathetic. I could have been a good influence. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been so swayed to do drugs with her mom and could have had real friendship and family in her life. Maybe she would still be alive.

But who’s to say. I can‘t change the past. I can’t bring her back. All I can do is live with the thought of what could have been and what I might have done differently. And, of course, deal with the knowledge that my classmate is dead.

My mom is estranged from her family and I have never met them. I did hear some stories growing up, though. They lived up by the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota and both my greatx3 grandma and my great-grandma were Sicangu Lakota. I’ve seen photos of Mom’s family and we are all darker-skinned with black hair. A lot of people in my mom‘s family also married natives; an aunt married a member of the Shoshone tribe in Wyoming and one of my mom‘s cousins married a Ponca who was supposedly a direct descendant of Standing Bear. If you haven’t heard his story look it up. His statue replaced William Jenning Bryan‘s in the US Capital. And I was quite proud of this growing up. My mom made the best frybread. I got super tan in the summers and almost never sunburned, which Mom said was due to our heritage. But since I lived far away from the reservation and Mom didn’t want anything to do with her family, those were the only “connections” to my family that I had.

I got TikTok during Covid times, as did every teenager my age. And for some reason, I kept seeing a lot of videos about people whose families had feigned native ancestry for whatever reason. A lot of supposed Cherokee princesses running around. That got me thinking a little bit about MY family. And I started wondering if the story was true. So I started to piece together a family tree…

…and I learned quite a few things.

Starting with my great-grandma: she was NOT native. Not even a lick. Not only that, but her husband, who was supposedly English, was actually German. The last name, Stamp, had actually been Stumpf before the family immigrated to America. Also, according to an uncle, she was actually TERRIBLY racist and abusive to him and his brother because they were darker skinned than my mom, who was basically her surrogate daughter. I’m also named after this woman. So yay.

Then I got to my greatx3 grandma. Her story actually added up. Her name was Atka Yellow Robe and she was born in Mission, South Dakota, on the Rosebud Reservation. I couldnt trace her heritage any further back from that, but I figured that was still cool. Sure, it still meant I was hardly Lakota at all, but it was still fun to know.

But then Ancestry started suggesting me records for another woman named Alta May Page, born the same day (but ten years later) than Atka, but in Nebraska and to a very white family. I first thought this was just due to the similarities of the names, but then I looked at some old censuses and in them, Atka was listed as Alta M. She also completely vanished after thr 1910 census records, which I took to mean she had died, along with her daughter, my greatx3 aunt. This was supported by the census listing Greatx3 Grandpa as Widowed, and him being the sole caregiver of his two sons, my greatx2 grandpa and his brother, John Jr.

But then I mentioned my research to my mom and she told me that Atka’s name was indeed Alta. She had never met her, but her mom had met John Jr who had told her a few stories. It turns out Alta married John Sr when he was 39 and she was 18. She had three children: Robert (greatx2 grandpa), John Jr and Alice. Remember how Alta and Alice disappeared from the censuses after 1910, and how John Sr was listed as a widower? Yeah, that was a lie. In 1907 or thereabouts, Alta divorced John and moved five hundred miles away. She took Alice with her. To my knowledge, neither Robert or John Jr saw their sister again. About 20 years later, John Sr also abandoned the family and no one ever knew what happened to him. John Jr did meet Alta once—he tracked her down when he was an adult and they hung out at her house for a while. All John said was that she was extremely short and had painted her face. There are no photographs of her. Not long after this conversation, John Jr and Robert had an argument and John packed his bags and left for parts unknown.

I used this information and found out that there was even more to the story. Alta had remarried after leaving John Sr and had two more daughters that no one else in the family had heard of. One of them is 97 and still alive somewhere down south. I did try to call her once, but she never picked up, so I decided to let her be. Hopefully she’s had a good life. Alice, meanwhile, was adopted by her stepdad. She graduated high school, moved to Washington, worked at a cannery, got married, had two children (who later completely disowned her and moved across the country to get away from her, for reasons unbeknownst to me) and lived till 88.

But there is even MORE. I found more census records that helped me figure out what happened to the two Johns. John Sr ALSO moved to Washington (albeit a different city several hours from Alice) and worked as a mechanic before dying at the ripe age of sixty-three. John Jr also moved to Washington…fifteen miles from Alice. Did he know she was there? Did they have a relationship? Unfortunately I don’t know. John Jr only went by Jack after moving to Washington. He got married and divorced, worked at Boeing, got married again, had a daughter, outlived wife two, retired from Boeing, outlived his daughter and died.

This also pointed me to Robert’s son, Richard, my great-grandpa who was married to the aforementioned racist POS. He died before Mom was born, so she didn’t know anything about him. She said she thought he was just a normal, chill guy who‘d been in the Army for a while. He was ALSO stationed in Washington, again not super far from Alice. Did she know he was there? Did he know? Did they care? Again I don’t know, but I doubt that they knew, or that they would have cared very much. Anyway, chill Richard was actually in and out of prison up there for grand theft auto. So there’s that.

My mom took a DNA test after this all came out and we‘re something like 57% German, 26% English, 13% Polish and super trace Ashkenazi. No Lakota. So I am not only not Lakota (which isn’t a big deal since the only connections to my so-called heritage were frybread tacos and more frybread topped with henious amounts of butter) but I am named after a colorist, abusive racist, and descended from a borderline pedophile, his wife/victim who claimed to be Lakota and even painted her face to “look” like one (ick), three traumatized and super dramatic siblings, and a car thief.

But hey, it turns out my real greatx3 grandma’s family were the founders/namesakes of a now-struggling village with like 25% poverty. And my mom still makes some bomb frybread, albeit less now that we know that we aren’t actually Lakota.

My train was delayed 37 minutes and I missed my train home by 8 minutes. It was a train from Plzen so it was Alex. One worker gave me a note with train details and told me to go to the DB information desk, talk with an employee, go get a hotel for the night and then fill out the form online so I can get refunded. But I went to the desk and the woman said that because the train was through Alex and because I have a Deutschlandticket, there was nothing she could do. I went across the street and got a hotel for 59 Euro and as I hear people in the street shouting about something or another I am trying to figure out my next steps. Am I entitled to a refund for my hotel? Or at the very least could I ask for a refund on my train ticket? I have been awake 20 hours and am very tired and hungry and would like a little bit of compensation one way or another. Thanks guys.

Hi guys, I’ve posted on here before about my plight with my family and my dead-end career prospects in America. One of you suggested an Ausbildung as a possible solution, and after thinking it over a lot, I really like the idea. But I don’t know much about the ins and outs, so I figured I’d turn to y‘all for help.

Here are some details that may or may not be helpful:

1. I am 21 years old and female

2. I am currently B2 in German. I understand German better than I speak it, but that is getting better the longer I am here. I exclusively use German in public, and no one switches to English, so I take that as a good sign. My goal is to be C1 by August.

3. I have ties to Southern Germany and would prefer to stay here if possible. I prefer the climate and landscape of this area, especially since I am active and love hiking in the mountains. But I have also been to Leipzig and liked that city, so if I had to go anywhere else, I could go there.

4. I have the funds for a closed bank account.

5. I have experience as a nurse (I worked as a caregiver for a man with muscular dystrophy) and also at Starbucks, for six years. I would be willing to work at Starbucks here, since I know the ratios and recipes like the back of my hand.

6. I want to do a medical Ausbildung. I was studying occupational therapy (Ergotherapie) in America, but have been a bit burnt out. I have looked into the MTR and MTF Ausbildungs and think both sound interesting. MTR (operating medical equipment for CT scans, X-rays, radiation therapy, etc.) especially sounds interesting. I just don’t want to be a surgeon or do anything that involves a lot of bodily fluids.

7. I don’t care if I live in a city or in a more rural area. My hometown in America is very rural, and we even have to be flown to bigger hospitals by helicopter. Neighboring counties dont even have birth facilities or clinics. But I didn’t mind the pace of life and liked the nature. I also like the opportunities that can be found in cities, so I think I could do well anywhere (except Berlin, it’s a bit too big and overwhelming for me).

If you have any advice or criticism, I would be glad to hear it. I am going into this without the support (or knowledge) of my family, and my friends do not plan on staying here forever, so you’re all I’ve got. Thank you!

Hi everyone! I am a Christian and had no idea that today was an Eid holiday. But my neighbor, a sweet girl who’s about my age, is originally from Pakistan and celebrates the holiday. She brought me fruit salad. She is truly a sweetheart and I want to give her a (belated) Eid present as well. My apartment doesn’t have an oven, but it does have a stovetop and I like to cook. I was originally thinking of cooking her something Pakistani (preferably vegan, with lentils/chickpeas since those are a bit more in my budget). But I don’t know if she would be comfortable eating something that I cooked. Any ideas on what I can give her (preferably Pakistani in origin)? Thanks, y’all!

EDIT: There are more Muslims in my building (not just from Pakistan) and I thought it might be nice to do something for all of them. I can rent our dorm’s kitchen for 50€ and get access to a good stove and baking supplies. Not to toot my own horn, but back home I was known for my loaded Biscoff-white chocolate chunk cookies. The ingredients were basically flour, cookie butter, brown sugar, eggs, baking powder and a white chocolate bar that I chopped into larger chunks. Plus a Biscoff cookie pressed on top of each larger cookie and garnished with cookie crumbs and extra cookie butter. Is that all halal or should I think of something else?